Present

Here am I,

Here where time and space collide,

The point at which my heart is beating,

Where past and future coincide

With one oncoming, one receding.

In each breath I stand astride

The many ways that open wide

Beyond the moment – here I must decide.

 

This poem focuses on an idea that I've explored before, at least a few times - the idea of the present as this confluence of everything that's come before and all the possibilities that could come after. In every moment, we have an opportunity to adjust the likelihoods of those possibilities a little bit, depending on the choices we make and the ways in which we decide to move forward. I'm certainly not the best at being this thoughtful in the moment all the time, but it's something I try to remember, at least every once in a while.

Mosquito Bites

Red spots dot my feet,

Minor bites where slight mosquitoes creep.

The evening hours before I sleep

Are spent in swatting night’s chaotic fleet,

But every one I hit

I watch as it descends, no more to be –

Perhaps an end not fair nor fit

For what its little hurts had done to me.

 

Unfortunately (for me at least), I've been pretty lazy about posting poems recently. Hopefully, this one will help to get me back into a regular rhythm. Right now in Nairobi, we see a relatively high number of mosquitoes in the evenings. I occasionally look down at my feet and see a few little bites that I hadn't even felt. This poem starts with this idea of mosquitoes as annoying and troublesome creatures for us as humans, but in the end, it wonders if we truly have a right to try to reduce their population.

Fusion Fire

Fusion fires prick the night,

White pins within the black expanse of sky,

Not to rip apart the sight

Bright eyes take in when elevated high –

Rather, building up the parts

That start new worlds, fresh with hopes and fears

Born when atoms’ bonding starts.

What seems destructive turns creation’s gears.

 

This poem considers the reactions that happen within stars - fusion reactions that build larger atoms, which are eventually expelled into space to form new planets, comets, and other things. Looking at the sun might bring thoughts of fire to the mind, which we might think of as destructive, but what actually happens is constructive, contributing to the ongoing creation of the universe. 

A Cup of Tea at the End of Time

The light’s gone out. The stars have ceased

To shine their brightness round the space they’d leased,

While every world’s waned to dust

Beneath the weight of eons glazed with rust.

Yet here we sit, with tea grown cold,

Upon some plane beyond temporal gold,

Afraid to drain the final drops

And see beyond when clockwork’s stirring stops.

 

This poem imagines the end of the universe, when all the energy of all the stars has dissipated, and everything fades to nothing. If any living thing remains at that point, I expect they'd wonder what comes next - what will wait beyond the end - but I also expect they'd be a little afraid of how their existence might change, or end, or continue in some unknown way. To a lesser extent, I suppose it's similar to the uncertainty we feel every day, unsure of what new turns our paths will take.

Forgiveness

Dark is the night that comforts me,

And gray does the morning dawn

With rainclouds holding vigil near,

Striped across the sky beneath the sun.

Dark do the shadows come for me

And stray on the warming lawn

But fade, evaporating clear,

Wiped away as hatred comes undone.

 

This poem is another one where, when I started writing, I didn't know what the theme was going to be. Eventually, the idea of a dark night and gray dawn transforming into a warm, renewed morning seemed to parallel the feeling of forgiving - of letting go of the hate you've been holding to move forward anew.

Perseverance

What is the chance that a raindrop falls

Precisely upon a speck of dust?

Does it matter?
Perhaps we’re safe to trust

That if the rain falls hard enough

The drops which flood the surface must,

As they scatter,

Wash away that stubborn speck of dust.

 

As you might imagine, this poem started while I was watching the rain outside, and looking at where the raindrops were falling on the ground. Eventually, I realized that this idea was something of a metaphor for perseverance: Even if we are not able to achieve a goal perfectly in a single attempt, continuing to try may eventually bring success - even if perfection still eludes us.

Friendship Fully Filled

What better indication

Of friendship fully filled

Than the opening of heart and home

And the harmony instilled

By the thoughts of those we’ve waited long

Again to hear and see?

Perhaps I sing a simple song,

But nothing’s more precious to me.

 

I've been traveling over the past couple of months - I have still been writing poetry, but haven't taken the time to actually post anything. Now that I'm back in Nairobi, here's one inspired by the fact that I got to see some friends during my travels. I think the meaning is pretty straightforward - those folks just mean a lot to me.